


Forget Me Not

by momopeachchild



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Battle of the Five Armies Divergence, M/M, everyone lives au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 01:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13987806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momopeachchild/pseuds/momopeachchild
Summary: Dwalin wasn't sure when he fell in love with his King, and at this point, does it even matter?





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by basically all of LadyNorthstar's art on tumblr. You rock Luce.  
> For those who are not familiar with her art, she does get a kinky with it, and though I only brieftly mention it, bondage and cross dressing as a kink are mentioned.
> 
> Additionally what is perspective? Or a focused timeline? One's mental musings don't really..follow a logical time line most of the time, right?

Dwalin could not say when exactly he fell for his Prince. They were younger, that was all that he was certain off. Balin would tell them they were always in love, but he always enjoyed the wise sage role. They had done what any young male dwarf did, practiced the art of love making with another, to work out their frustrations, and to learn when to be gentle, and when to be rough. Perhaps it was that time on the throne? That had to be the start, there was no other explanation for it. 

  
Dwalin always felt it had been his duty to take care of the young prince. He was the only one who could find the young prince when he ran off through the ever winding halls of Erebor. As they grew older, he would find that the younger dwarf would leave him little gifts, like cookies he stole from the kitchen. Or would give him little kisses if he shared his sweets. One day he even had tried to give him blue forget me nots, in front of Balin of all people!   
  


Of course, none of this meant that the Princeling loved him. Why ever would he? He was one of the Crowned Princes of Erebor. Dwalin was just a training member of the guard, there was no way he could ever love him. They were both expected to find a nice dwarf lady to marry, have dwarflings, why ever would they fall in love with each other? When he asked later, Balin told him he was pretty sure his little brother had been in love for as long as he could remember. 

However, he took a little longer.  
  


They did what any Dwarf men of their age did, they engaged in love making. Thorin seemed to be under the impression they never did it enough. Dwalin always figured they did it too much. After all it wasn’t exactly normal to want to tie your prince up. It wasn’t exactly normal for your prince to want to be tied up, to be made to dress like a Lady Dwarf, to be told dirty things as they made love. But it worked for them, and they both enjoyed themselves.   
  


There really hadn’t been anything to it, and really if they were physically affectionate with one another sometimes, well it happened, right? Thorin’s brother had just died, the last member of his family, he needed some comfort. The battle was over and won, and he was petting his hair and holding him as he cried. No one could see them, it wouldn’t do if they saw their now king losing it. There was nothing odd about it, Balin gave him comfort sometimes, and he saw the others do the same with Ori.  
  


Even when Thorin got his first tattoo, sitting not too far away from Dwalin as he got his own, the older dwarf never once suspected any sort of affection from the Prince, even when his artist asked when their king would get one /with/ him.  It went over his head, as he was a bit distracted by said king, who had fallen asleep while getting the stars on his knee. He thought briefly about how it must have felt like nothing compared to some of their rougher time together.   
  


But that night on the throne, it had been different. They were very much alone, Thorin had made doubly sure of that. It had been different, and Dwalin couldn’t honestly put his finger on why, not at first. It hadn’t been anything like their hurried quickies in a dark corner, or a long, drawn out session in one of their chambers. There had been more passion to it, he supposed, and the touches were more tender. Neither of them had spoke either, they just moved, knowing what the other would do.  
  


The intimacy of it all, despite the location, tugged at something deep in Dwalin’s chest. Thorin was radiant, everything was as close to perfect as it could get. But still his mind drifted a little, to when Thorin would find a she-dwarf and get married. He was at that age when that was expected of him, and Dwalin had past it long ago. Oddly, though, Balin had never asked him about it, never pressured him towards courting. Thorin’s moans drew him from his thoughts and he gently caressed him.  
  


His hair slid through his fingers like silk, and shone like polished onyx, calling to him to grip it, pull it, bend his future king’s head and ravish the strong column of skin before him. The feel of his lover wrapped around his throbbing member, as well as the feel of his hands gripping his shoulders, begging, pleading softly, so softly to be owned by this dwarf. This dwarf who was his equal in all but station, was he whom Thorin loved.   
  


Thorin confessed it first, in the throes of passion, just before his climax. The words slipped past his lips, smoother than a polished opal, and more precious to Dwalin than any gem or gold to be found in or around Erebor, more precious than even the Arkenstone which shined above them! He whispered back to his prince, to the King of his Heart as they sat panting, holding one another with gentle kisses and caresses. The smile which lit his love’s face warmed him more than any forge fire could.  
  


Balin could see it in his step the next day, the way he moved, the way he would smile to himself sometimes. Gloin asked him briefly if a fair Dwarf maid had finally caught his eye, but Dwalin just shrugged. It didn’t matter, really. Dwalin loved Thorin. Thorin loved him. Everyone who had a mind to could see it. And none really judged them for it. At the time Thorin wasn’t the heir, everything was alright in the halls under the mountain. And after they fled? Any comfort their throneless king found was a relief to his people.  
  


It came as no shock when Thorin said he was going to reclaim their home, that Dwalin was the first to agree to join him. They were married in everything, but name. Why wouldn’t he go? Thorin must have thought it would cross his mind to stay and mind his newphews with Dis, while his lord, the king of his heart would go on without him. The face Thorin had made when Dwalin had cut him off as he dared to start to suggest he stay behind was one he’d never forget. That night, with Dis and Balin as witnesses, they married. Nothing mattered more to Thorin, and Dwalin was relieved to finally have it be official.   
  


The next morning, he took care in braiding his love’s hair, adding his own charm, and smiling with Thorin did the same for his, what he had left anyway. The business with the Hobbit was a headache, but he figured it had to pay off in the end. Or at least it had better with how many times Thorin nearly got himself killed. Dwalin knew his heart would not be able to take it if his king died. But even the very Wyrm that had killed so many and stolen their home could not kill Thorin.  
  


But still Dwalin could see him dying before his eyes. Walking through the halls had brought back many fond memories for him, but looking at his husband, he could see only gold. The same sickness that had taken Thror was gripping his own love. Even calling attention to it did little to help.  
  


“You were always my King! You used to know that once!”  
  


The words had rung loud in the hall, and he was too proud to let the tears hit him until he could be alone. He’d left, to cool his temper and to stop the prickling in his eyes. No matter what, he would stay with him. It was his duty, to his King and to his heart. But Thorin was not with the others at the gates. He went to fetch his king, and nearly wept when he saw Thorin without his crown, without the royal armor, merely his own he’d worn nearly the entire trip. There was an apology on his lips, but Dwalin never let him utter it, sweeping him into his arms and kissing him senseless.  Still there was a fight to attend to, and after a bit of hair smoothing and clothes straightening, they arrived together.   
  


The battle was fierce, but he would have it no other way. Being separated from his heart, however, he was very much not happy about. The battle raged on and on, until the sun rose again. They gathered their wounded, they counted their dead. It was frantic on his part, he could not find Thorin or the boys. Blessedly Kili found him first, near screaming his head off at the sight of the older warrior. Thorin was hurt, Fili was hurt, and by rights Fili should not have been up, but someone had to find him.  
  


“He may not make it, Dwalin.”  
  


Wrapping a gentle arm around the young dwarf, he took a deep breath. “He will. He knows better than to die.”  
  


Still his voice betrayed him. It was clear he was as terrified of the idea as Kili was, and his heart stopped as he walked into the tent. Balin was there, shaking his head.  
  


“I’ve done all I can. Let me tend to the boys, and I’ll be back to sit with you.”  
He settled next to the cot, gently taking Thorin’s hand. He should have been there, he should have been with him. He wasn’t even certain how they’d been separated, but now..now could be it. All he could do was sit there and reflect on when everything had started to slide into place. If only those damn elves weren’t singing.  Was he shaking? Perhaps. Was he crying? He was man enough to admit it. He should have been there, at his side.   
  


Leaning over to kiss his forehead, Dwalin closed his eyes against the sharp prickle, trembling as he gently cupped his face and stared down at Thorin. “I know I don’t deserve you, but that’s okay. I know life isn’t fair, but I swear by my beard if it is just this once, I’ll be able to die a happy man,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to his forehead and settled back down to keep watch.   
  


Many came in to check on them, and Balin returned as he promised. Even the burglar had shown up, a small clump of blue forget me nots in a cup of water, just to try and brighten everything. He held strong though, and kept his tears back. Kili and Fili needed him. They were hurt physically and emotionally, and he didn’t even want to think of the death toll. He even let the dwarf princes slip under his arms and snuggle against his side, both desperate to seek comfort. Still he held onto Thorin’s hand and kept his watch. 

  
The candles were flickering when he blinked heavily. The boys had ended up in a dog pile behind him, and Balin was coordinating everything they needed. Food had been brought, but he did not want a single morsel, he wouldn’t even give into his body’s desire to sleep. Still his head would dip and his eyes would droop, and not much changed. Maybe if he just set his head on the cot.  
  


“Balin stop it,’ he muttered, feeling a hand move through his hair. It didn’t stop, and he shifted slightly to see who was doing it, jerking up a little at the sight of those brown eyes staring at him. Gently taking the hand from his hair, he kissed his wrist and cup his face again.   
  


"You’re stuck with me now.”  
  


“Huh, means we’re going to have to spend a lot of time under a cloak.” he teased right back, kissing him softly again as Balin walked in.  
  


So he still wasn’t completely certain when he started to love his king. But that didn’t matter. They were together, now. Forever.


End file.
